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Deviation Actions
Literature Text
the smoke curls in the air, coming from her smudged red lips. it's exciting.
"i don't love you," she tells him as she exhales another puff of cigarette smoke.
"i need another one," is his only reply. it's all he cares about, she thinks. she passes him another tiny stress reliever and lights it for him, his own smoke curling above their guilty heads.
and that's all they'll ever be. guilty, guilty, guilty.
----
it's december. frost crusts at the windows, coating almost anything in sight. it's strange to think that this is some people's paradise. it was bitter and reminded her of herself too much. which meant another cigarette.
it's an addiction, yes, but she's quite alright with that.
----
"i want to see how long we last,"
"a game?"
"i thought games were supposed to be fun," he replies in his same old indifferent tone. it's as if he's never felt an emotion. she's both jealous and sorrowful.
"a test?"
he walks away. and even though she never wants to admit it, it stings.
----
she's alone outside. with no company but her small cigarette. people passing by give her looks of disgust, judgement and one or two of remorse. she doesn't care though. it makes her feel better. and if this is what it takes to feel normal again, she'll do anything. although, this fake, dirty feeling isn't normal. she's a liar now too.
----
they lay side by side in the old, lumpy california king bed. it's squishy, yet too big for two tiny bodies. they're not children, though her tiny body might fight against that fact.
it's late, too late to be awake. it's the hours between dusk and dawn when no living soul breathes a word of coherent thought. when not even the owls are up anymore. but she can't sleep anymore. she gave up that a long time ago. that's why her purple bags never left her face these days. her poor sleep deprived body just can't remember how to do it.
"darling," his ugly voice murmurs. "you're not really awake right now, are you?"
"i don't even know anymore."
grey smoke is all they smell.
"i don't love you," she tells him as she exhales another puff of cigarette smoke.
"i need another one," is his only reply. it's all he cares about, she thinks. she passes him another tiny stress reliever and lights it for him, his own smoke curling above their guilty heads.
and that's all they'll ever be. guilty, guilty, guilty.
----
it's december. frost crusts at the windows, coating almost anything in sight. it's strange to think that this is some people's paradise. it was bitter and reminded her of herself too much. which meant another cigarette.
it's an addiction, yes, but she's quite alright with that.
----
"i want to see how long we last,"
"a game?"
"i thought games were supposed to be fun," he replies in his same old indifferent tone. it's as if he's never felt an emotion. she's both jealous and sorrowful.
"a test?"
he walks away. and even though she never wants to admit it, it stings.
----
she's alone outside. with no company but her small cigarette. people passing by give her looks of disgust, judgement and one or two of remorse. she doesn't care though. it makes her feel better. and if this is what it takes to feel normal again, she'll do anything. although, this fake, dirty feeling isn't normal. she's a liar now too.
----
they lay side by side in the old, lumpy california king bed. it's squishy, yet too big for two tiny bodies. they're not children, though her tiny body might fight against that fact.
it's late, too late to be awake. it's the hours between dusk and dawn when no living soul breathes a word of coherent thought. when not even the owls are up anymore. but she can't sleep anymore. she gave up that a long time ago. that's why her purple bags never left her face these days. her poor sleep deprived body just can't remember how to do it.
"darling," his ugly voice murmurs. "you're not really awake right now, are you?"
"i don't even know anymore."
grey smoke is all they smell.
![[ai adopt] cute snake](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/ddc18696-4f6c-45cb-9f33-d86c938029f4/dgrsxm5-d1381bd8-c4c1-4401-9c89-ad7c6a56cc14.jpg/v1/fill/w_350,h_350,q_70,strp/_ai_adopt__cute_snake_by_1dollaradopts_dgrsxm5-350t.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTAyNCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2RkYzE4Njk2LTRmNmMtNDVjYi05ZjMzLWQ4NmM5MzgwMjlmNFwvZGdyc3htNS1kMTM4MWJkOC1jNGMxLTQ0MDEtOWM4OS1hZDdjNmE1NmNjMTQuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTEwMjQifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ._uvVtQD9jz7hV4UZhLvmFHpXdWpEEHUXs9OxTb89TPk)
is this even worth publishing on here?
doubtful
doubtful
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Comments9
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This is beautiful and eerie. The sense of separation between the too and that slight hint that maybe it wasn't always like that, makes just a wonderful short story.